Have you ever had one of those days that didn’t quite go as planned? It’s not that it went totally off the rails, but little things here and little things there didn’t work out and it left you feeling less than satisfied? What if that day was one that held great significance to you and you desperately wanted it to be perfect? That’s today. My day. This day. This all-important day. The whole week leading up to the second anniversary of TJ’s death has been fraught with emotion. I didn’t want to face this day and yet I was powerless to escape it.
Maybe that’s why I planned it all out. I thought I’d see the kids off to school and have a leisurely breakfast followed by a guided meditation, some writing, a pedicure with a friend, then lunch & a movie at home. A little origami, a flat white, send up some bubbles to heaven, and have Chinese for dinner.
And then it came. Rolling in with sounds of a 5am robo call from the school district announcing that schools were delayed two hours and the acute awareness that my planned me-time was going to be we-time.
Since schools were opening late my quiet morning of breakfast, meditating, and writing morphed into a quick coffee while playing Wii games, meditating while hearing all sorts of indoor and outdoor noises going on around me, and an at-home pedicure in the living room without my friend. My movie-lunch was completed in parts and the origami was, well, shall we say, necessity is the mother of invention (realizing my origami paper was actually small squares of cardstock I attempted to cut down pieces of magazine pages into squares) and my great idea sort of worked and sort of didn’t (the crane is beautiful but three attempts at a butterfly proved fruitless.)
Before I knew it it was a good bit after 4pm and it would be dark soon. Bubbles. Quick! Get the bubbles. I found the mega bubble blaster, poured in the last little dribble of solution that remained, and opened the back door as I hit the “on” switch, fully expecting a hurricane of bubbles to float up to the heavens. Is it on? Did I push the button in all the way? Why isn’t this working? Where are the bubbles? Oh crap. The batteries must have died. I carefully- if not successfully- attempted to remove the battery door off the bottom of the machine without spilling the aforementioned dribble of bubble solution. Changed out six AAs and pushed the switch…..no bubbles. Have no fear, I saw a bubble wand in the basket with the machine. I’d do this old school. Rip off the plastic overwrap. Pull out the wand loaded with soapy happiness and blow. Nope, there literally wasn’t enough solution in the tube o’ bubbles- NEW tube- to completely cover the wand and allow those beautiful little glistening orbs to float up to the clouds. Wow. No bubbles. This was a sad moment for me. I have always sent TJ bubbles. I never thought to check the machine. It always worked.
On to dinner I suppose. My sister was coming over and we had planned on her picking up the Chinese. But the closer it got to dinner the more I realized that even Chinese food seemed like too much work. Everything had been an effort today and I just could not take one more thing being a challenge. I realize it may seem ridiculous that I would say someone bringing me Chinese take-out is a challenge. The more I thought of all the little cartons, people passing containers, and the mess that always accompanies this meal, the more I couldn’t bear the thought of dealing with the aftermath. Switch gears- again. Drive through take out, everyone with their own little meal, and everything goes in the trash at the end.
So here I sit. It’s 7:42 and I await the return of my older sister who sweetly brought us sustenance and took my dancer to the studio. I feel alone and empty and like I did nothing to remember my beautiful son. And yet I know that is not true.
I did make a pretty great looking origami crane from a page of “Real Simple” magazine. And I did sit with a guided meditation- despite the external noise- and I truly know that TJ and I met one another in a field of yellow flowers on a private beach in the whispers of the thin veil between our two worlds. And yet….and yet….
And yet that is the best I can hope for, a veiled meeting with my sweet precious angel. This is the exact reason why it all feels so empty. Because nothing- no, not a single thing- can ever replace snuggling TJ at bedtime, hearing his actual voice tell me he loves me, seeing his huge smile and bright eyes light up with the happiness in his heart. 760 days of longing, only to know that another 760 days will not bring anything different, nor another 760 days, nor another. It’s all so much to bear. If I think about it for more than a minute I can feel my energy draining away and the tears welling up. Experience has told me to focus on something else like that little voice in the living room- TJ’s little brother who is eagerly teaching his aunt how to play carnival Wii games. He is keeping me going for this exact moment. Soon I’ll have to find something else to keep me going. When he goes off to dreamland and his wee voice isn’t filling the air I pray there is something else that buoys me in this sea of sadness. And I know it will come. But nothing will ever be the same. Nothing will ever be as I planned.
